Eye of the Beholder

You think I

am blind and negative,

but you should see

yourself.

.

I see the cascades

of hurtful words

and flaming gestures

that threaten the warmth

you think is the sole inhabiter.

.

The window glass

is wiped clean

and lets in the cold.

I look out one window

and you see

through the other.

.

My sclera is white

and you think

the rest of me is

unpigmented as well.

Can’t you see

beyond your own eyes?

.

I see corners

you do not see

and you think

it is because I do not choose

to speak how I

see your corners as well,

they are invisible to me.

.

The logs are crackling

and a stubborn standoff

is the sullen flame.

I point out the ash

and you point the clear spots

it isn’t.

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